


Lethe

by Robin_tCJ



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, Memory Charms, Post-Series, character resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 15:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5544983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lethe: "Forgetfulness". In Greek mythology, the Lethe is one of the rivers that flow through the realm of Hades. Called the River of Oblivion, the shades of the dead had to drink from this river to forget about their past lives on earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lethe

Wesley laughs when he’s told the story of his resurrection. Divine intervention, blinding light, howling winds and sparks of flame and suddenly there he was, naked and shivering and looking around wildly.  
  
He doesn’t remember it. He’s not sure he wants to.  
  
Wesley listens raptly when he’s told the stories of his adventures throughout his life. Demons and monsters and England, dysfunctional parents, dead lovers, betrayal and darkness. A fight to the death with a powerful wizard, ending with him cold and bleeding on a concrete floor, in the arms of a lie.  
  
He doesn’t remember that, either.    
  
In fact, he doesn’t remember anything. He’s told his name is Wesley, that he died saving the world, that the Powers That Be decided his work wasn’t finished and sent him back, though they’ve yet to tell  _him_  why. He thinks that if they’d sent him back to continue whatever good works he was performing before, they should at least allow him to remember those works. Or at least what he’s supposed to do now.  
  
They’re patient with him. Them. The people that claim to be his friends. The strange demon-woman with the vibrant blue hair has little patience for his questions. He’s told her name is Illyria. It’s a fitting enough name, for the confidence and air of arrogance he sees in her. The blonde vampire, Spike, answers what he can, but seems uncomfortable around Wesley, as though he’s not sure how to talk to him. Wesley doesn’t mind; he’s not sure how to talk to Spike, either.  
  
The other, Angel, watches him. He doesn’t say much; doesn’t say why he can’t stop staring, answers Wesley’s questions shortly and without detail, and generally makes Wesley uncomfortable under the scrutiny. He thinks that Angel’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, as though he’s expecting something horrible to come out of Wesley’s amnesiac resurrection. Wesley wonders what’s happened in the past to bring such a pessimistic attitude to the vampire’s personality.  
  
The last one, Gunn, is perhaps Wesley’s favorite. He wonders if he loved him before, because he certainly does now. He wishes he could remember his life. Any small detail would be welcomed, relished.    
  
Gunn’s good about it. Answers what he can, with as much honesty as he’s capable of. Wesley knows he doesn’t get along with his father. That Illyria used to be Fred, whom they both used to love. That Spike died once, too, and came back, that Angel spent some time in Hell, that Gunn himself used to be a street thug, that he didn’t come by his legal education in the most traditional way.  
  
Wesley lives with Gunn in a modest bungalow, because none of them felt he should live by himself, considering he doesn’t remember anything about the world or his place in it. He doesn’t mind living with Gunn, though he’s still unsure about Gunn’s feelings for him.    
  
However, Wesley doesn’t have anything to lose; he doesn’t remember being Gunn’s friend before, so there isn’t much of a friendship to ruin. Taking that into consideration, he moves behind Gunn in the kitchen one afternoon, while Gunn’s fishing in the refrigerator for something to snack on. When Gunn turns around, he almost collides with Wesley. Slightly surprised, he goes to move back, and Wesley presses him against the stainless steel appliance, and presses a relatively chaste kiss on the darker man’s lips.  
  
When he pulls away, he’s nearly bowled over with the intensity of sudden self-doubt. He may not remember his friendship with Gunn before, but in the months since he’s come back, Gunn has been his most important friend; teaching him of his life, his world, helping him hone skills he apparently retained through his death and rebirth. Has he ruined it? Destroyed that?  
  
“Wes?”  
  
There’s more confusion in Gunn’s voice, and Wesley still can’t read his reaction.  
  
“I apologize. I was… I don’t know what I was doing.”  
  
After a pause that seems to span millennia, Gunn blinks. “I think you were kissing me.”  
  
Wesley wants to laugh, but he’s busy trying to stamp down on the flush that’s rising in his cheeks. “Yes. I suppose I was.”  
  
“Wes?”  
  
“I…you’ve shown me nothing but kindness, and friendship. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”  
  
Gunn doesn’t say anything.  
  
“Did I…did I feel this way before? I don’t remember.”  
  
“I don’t…you never said anything. Before. But… Lilah, and Fred.”  
  
Wesley recognizes the names, but can’t remember feeling for them, can’t remember seeing their faces in his dreams the way he does Gunn.  
  
“I don’t… I don’t remember.” It sounds lame to his own ears. He knows he should think of something better to say, something to let Gunn know how he really feels, but the words won’t come into his brain. “Did you ever…?”  
  
Gunn takes several moments to think about it, pushing away from the refrigerator and running a hand over his head. Wesley steps back, giving Gunn room to pace back and forth through the kitchen.  
  
“I need some time to think about this, Wes. It’s kind of…unexpected.”  
  
Wesley hesitates. “Unwelcome?”  
  
Gunn shrugs, brow furrowed. “I don’t know. It’s just…unexpected.”  
  
Wesley nods, can’t ignore the sense of disappointment he feels. He probably should have known better than to hope that Gunn might return his feelings, but he’d hoped nonetheless.    
  
“I mean, that’s a pretty big thing to put out there. Especially with our history…”  
  
Wesley snorts. “I don’t remember our history.”  
  
A small smile from Gunn. “Yeah. I guess you don’t. I kinda forgot, for a minute.”  
  
Wesley bites back a sarcastic remark about the length of Gunn’s memory, considering his own…misfortune.  
  
Gunn glances up at him. “I’m not sure this is right. You don’t know all of our history, and I don’t know what your take on it was. It’s not fair to you, to ignore all that, ‘cuz if you remembered, you might not…”  
  
Wesley raises an eyebrow.  
  
“It just wouldn’t be…right.”  
  
“Then perhaps it’s time we made more of an effort to restore my memory.”  
  
Gunn glances at him. “So I’ll let you kiss me?”  
  
Wesley rolls his eyes. “Because I’ve been here for months, and I still don’t remember anything from the time I woke up in hospital.”  
  
Gunn nods. “We’ll look into it more tomorrow, then.”  
  
Suddenly Wesley is angry. He’s put himself out there, risked one of his only friendships, risked his comfort in his own home, and he doesn’t want to wait another day.  
  
“I’ll start now,” he says shortly, heading into the room that serves as their library. He’s told he was quite the researcher, and for whatever reason, any time he’s tried to read languages that weren’t the Queen’s English, he’s been able to. Gunn has told him that he used to be quite fluent in several languages, and he can only assume that despite forgetting everything about himself and life in general, any skills he’d acquired during what he refers to as his first life have carried over to now.   
  
At the moment, he’s grateful for that, and he pulls dusty tomes from the shelves, flipping through indexes and appendices searching for any information regarding memory restoration.  
  
He reads for hours, and within a few pages, he’s calmed. By the time Gunn comes into the room with a carafe of tea and a sandwich for him, he’s forgotten his anger completely. Several of the books are lain open on the round table, marking pages of some interest. Wesley glances up when Gunn enters the room, and smiles gratefully at the appearance of food. He takes a sip of the tea, and pushes a few of the open books toward his friend.  
  
“These are some items that could be useful. Would you care to look into acquiring them?”  
  
Gunn glances at the book on top. There’s an illustration of a necklace. The caption beneath it reads “Lethe Haar”. Wesley sees a flash of recognition on Gunn’s face.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Gunn blinks. “We can’t get that.”  
  
Wesley waits curiously.   
  
“Remember I told you about the time I spent in Suburbahell?”  
  
Wesley nods.    
  
“That’s the necklace that made me forget who I was while I was there. It doesn’t leave that place.”  
  
Wesley glances down at the illustration. He’s sorry for having reminded Gunn about his tenure in that place, but he’s even more interested in the specifics of the artifact. According to the book, with the proper accompanying ingredients, the charm on the necklace would almost assuredly restore the memory of whomever were to perform the spell.  
  
“Are you sure? If we had it, we could…”  
  
“It doesn’t…you can’t get it out, because someone in that dimension has to be wearing it for the doors to open. That’s the only way you can leave that place.”  
  
Wesley thinks for a moment. “We could perform the spell there?”  
  
“They…don’t really like us there.”  
  
Wesley sighs.  
  
“What about the rest of this stuff?” Gunn says, gesturing at the other books on the table.  
  
“None of them carry quite the guarantee that Lethe Haar carries.”  
  
“Do the best you can.”  
  
Wesley nods, and continues to read, every so often taking distracted bites of the sandwich Gunn’s prepared for him.  
  
Eventually, he looks up to find Gunn watching him.  
  
When Gunn notices Wesley noticing his stare, he shakes his head. “Sorry. I was just… I’m starting to wish I hadn’t…”  
  
“Hadn’t what?” Wesley asks when Gunn doesn’t continue.  
  
“Told you that I wouldn’t… Okay, here’s the thing. I’m pretty sure that when you remember what happened before, all of it, you won’t want…what you wanted earlier this afternoon.”  
  
Wesley waits.  
  
“And, I mean, I was thinking about it, and maybe I’d…be interested.”  
  
“Yet you don’t think I will be?”  
  
Gunn sighs. “You kinda got the short straw the last few years. I wasn’t…real nice about it.”  
  
“But we were friends?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Did I ever give you any reason, before I…died…any reason to think that I didn’t want to be your friend.”  
  
Gunn thinks about it for a moment. “Not…not since we joined Wolfram & Hart, no.”  
  
Wesley gives him a small smile. “I don’t strike myself as a particularly flighty person, Charles. If I was your friend at the end, I’m sure there was a reason.”  
  
Gunn returns the smile, and nods.  
  
Wesley glances back down at the book.  
  
“Wes?”  
  
“Yes, Charles?”  
  
Gunn’s suddenly standing beside his chair, then crouching so that they’re at eye level. He leans forward, and kisses Wesley. Wesley hesitates for half a moment, then returns the action, opening his lips gently under Gunn’s probing tongue.  
  
When Gunn pulls away, Wesley’s panting slightly, light-headed. He looks curiously up at Gunn when the other man stands upright again.  
  
“Just in case,” Gunn explains, then turns to leave the room.  
  
Wesley stares after him for long minutes before he turns back to his books.  
  
  
  
END


End file.
